Never the Hero
by Parsee
Summary: Seryna Daleth, a thief first and an adventurer second, never considered herself a hero even when her background would happily tell her otherwise. No, she's perfectly fine being who she is now: just another bloody Dark Elf populating Skyrim, though certainly an odd one at that. After becoming the Dragonborn's sidekick, though... Well. So much for the past staying in the past.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **In no way do I own Skyrim, or The Elder Scrolls for that matter. Bethesda does. I'm simply toying around the sandbox it's provided.

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

As Seryna Daleth reached the military-infested town of Helgen, she couldn't help but let out a small groan as she sighted the familiar high stone walls and the tall towers that always, always had an archer or two stationed on top.

Really. Helgen. Of all the places her target could have gone to, it had to be where a large number of Imperial Legion soldiers were all bunched up in one place. Gods above, she hated Helgen. You could cut someone's purse here and end up with your head chopped off if one of the soldiers caught you doing it. Hell, the townsfolk would probably watch and proclaim justice as your head rolled on the ground. _Over a handful of coins_.

Still, the thought of having to go through the town made her gulp as she further considered her next action, having stopped several feet away from the town gates.

…Hmm, then again, it wasn't as if she could just skip over this town and head on to Riverwood. Chances are, the person she was looking for could have stopped by here. She knew _he_ wasn't smart enough to keep moving. Otherwise he wouldn't have left her with two dull-witted thugs who she easily dispatched after they tried to jump her.

If there were _five_ or more mercenaries, though... Yeah, maybe he'd be considered smarter then.

But, really, killing her just so _he_ could run away with the stuff that she handed to him in exchange for money since he said he was a guild fence? She didn't know about him, but that might not sit well with her pals at the Riften Thieves Guild if they found out some fetcher killed off one of their members. Killed _and_ scammed the whole lot of them.

The Dunmer sighed, feeling the urge to tug at her ponytailed, dark hair in frustration. This was her job she'd just failed, so it was up to her to mend at least some of the damage. Gods. She really didn't have any other choice but to walk past the gates and see if she could locate her missing… acquaintance. Once she found the guy, she was going to have a few choice words with the man.

Well. At least, she was letting her daggers do _all_ the speaking.

Back to the thought of passing by Helgen, though… so long as she kept up the façade of an average adventurer—then again, she _was_ an adventurer on her off days from her "job"—nobody would look twice at her and assume she was just passing by. Not a lot of people gave too much mind to elves like her. And considering the current status of the Thieves Guild (that is, if there was any)… no one outside Riften should easily recognize the armor of the Thieves Guild. She'd be fine.

Fine…

Seryna took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders before making her way inside the town.

Helgen wasn't really a large place, come to think of it. Recalling her visits here in the past, she knew she could easily reach one end of the place to another—although she had to be suicidal to think of entering the grounds where everything military happened. Somehow the houses here, built in the same Nordic style she'd seen in the other towns—all straws and stone—managed to blend just fine with the military structures built up by the soldiers.

And speaking of soldiers…

It just occurred to her that there were plenty more of them around today. Oh, yes, there were at least more than two archers keeping watch at the top of each tower, and she'd realized just now that there _had_ been twice the amount stationed by the town gates. She even looked behind her just to be sure; she'd been too absorbed in her thoughts to have noticed before.

Also, a quick glance at the other side of the road she'd taken revealed a couple more who were talking with each other as they went on their patrol (and was that the_ Thalmor_ she'd spotted past them?) and—

What was up with today?

Seryna almost, _almost_ wanted to chat up one of the soldiers, but she reconsidered at the last minute and kept on walking forward. There was certainly no need to detract them from their duties. Plus, some of them looked really… grouchy. Or simply had that aura that could almost say, _Don't you even think of bothering me, citizen_.

She knew that by the end of this road, just before the walls separating the Helgen keep grounds from the residential houses, there existed the one place where she could get her share of news with ease. All it'd take was some coin and a very friendly smile, and she'd have all the information she needed without too much effort.

Or, at least, she'd be able to get that _and_ some drinks. Drinks that soldiers also wouldn't have on hand because having alcohol on the job would be terrible and would risk unemployment—if they didn't stumble and fall on their swords first.

It didn't take her long before she reached the inn; Helgen wasn't really a large town. She found herself standing by the porch, the door just a few steps away from her.

Frankly speaking, Helgen Homestead wasn't really the most impressive inn out there. It looked like a regular house, except that it had two floors and a sign that helpfully showed any outsider that, hey, this was the inn they were all looking for. This was the inn that was conveniently placed beside the grounds where executions were merely another Tirdas. And if anyone inhaled deep enough, they could smell the faint smell of blood through an open window.

However, the inn was more known with its special mead that the innkeeper, Vilod, always served to the customers who always ask for it. It was mead with _j_uniper berries, and… that was the one good thing in this town, really.

Speaking of mead, though, that was most certainly what she was going to have later on. And with that in mind, Seryna climbed the steps, pushed open the door, and…

She found the whole place surprisingly devoid of people.

She blinked her red eyes as she noted how there was barely a sign that someone, _anyone_, was even here long before she got inside. The tables were empty and absent of its usual traces of spilled drinks, and if she had to think of the usual tavern brawls, the spots of blood that occasionally marked their existence on the wooden surfaces weren't there, either. There were only one or two chairs that showed they've been used recently, and the only person inside the inn was Vilod, the Nord innkeeper wearing his usual leather armor. The man was currently sweeping behind the counter.

"Odd," Seryna decided to say as she made her way to the counter. It felt strange hearing her own voice clearly in a place like _this_. "I was expecting some drunken bastard to start moaning about a filthy knife-ear ruining all the fun now. No complaints, though. Means no one's getting out of here with a black eye or two."

Vilod, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, turned to acknowledge the Dunmer. He gave a small chuckle at the last thing she'd said. "Aye, usually this place's filled to the brim with those off-duty soldiers, the locals, and the occasional adventurer. None of the latter passed by—you were the first—and those from the Imperial Legion had all been busy preparing for what's to happen soon."

A wry smile spread across Seryna's face. She watched the man place the broom beside the wall after he finished sweeping. "That explains why there's so many of them out there. I don't suppose they're not planning a party or a festival, are they? Talos knows the bunch of them are far too serious for their own good unless they're so drunk they wouldn't be able to tell up from down."

Vilod shook his head, though he did seem to find the thought amusing. "That'd mean lots of septims flowing in on the Homestead. Unfortunately, that isn't the case."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Sure. It's actually everyone's favorite topic today: the Stormcloaks have been captured on the border. I heard it was an ambush, but it's the Legion who'll know the specifics. They're expected to be brought in today."

She blinked.

Well. That _was_ news that was worthy of being talked about by everyone. Three years of being in Skyrim had been enough to get her in the know of everything relating to that land, so when Vilod mentioned the _Stormcloaks_, she knew straight away who they were.

In fact, to describe them and sufficiently reveal her opinion of them, all it took were two words: _those_ and _bastards_.

One night at Windhelm, which she dubbed the shittiest place in Skyrim, had shown her enough about how _likeable_ those rebel soldiers were. Especially the sympathizers. She knew that the lot of them were the primary reason why Skyrim was what it was at present, but that time spent in the town had really made her opinion of them much more solid than an iceberg in the Skyrim waters. Certainly, there would be no love lost from her.

Gods, and to think of those Dunmer at the Gray Quarter... Well. Not that _some_ of them didn't deserve it. Only the snobby, _I'm-better-than-you_ ones, she supposed.

But before Seryna could open her mouth and say that the news was a really good one, the neighing of horses and the start of loud chatter erupted from outside—as well as the sound of wheels rolling on rocky ground. That last one was faint at first, but it grew louder by the second. She turned her head towards the door in curiosity.

"That's probably them." Vilod explained. Then, in tone that made her think the man was slightly embarrassed, he said, "Aye, miss, if you've nothing else to need…"

Seryna smiled politely and shook her head in response, knowing what he meant. The way he looked almost eager when he realized that the prisoners were coming in now had been enough of a sign.

"It's fine. I'm actually looking to see the Legion's latest batch of prisoners too. I just came here for information, which I should have thanked you for, by the way." She shrugged. She had meant to ask if Vilod had seen a person she was looking for, but she decided that can wait. For now.

And, to prove that she meant what she said, she was the first to leave the inn.

The cold air outside greeted her as she stepped out of the door, and she noticed that more and more of the townsfolk were outside now. Picking a spot where she'd do her own spectating, Seryna leaned herself on the wooden railing of the porch, her crossed arms supporting her weight.

Two wooden carriages were what rolled in and later parked by the walls preceding the execution grounds. One carriage was filled to the brim with bound Stormcloak soldiers, all weapons confiscated, and the other carriage was filled by four prisoners. Two were of unknown background, insignificant compared to another Stormcloak soldier and the bound and gagged man that was unmistakably Ulfric Stormcloak. The leader of the rebellion itself.

_This just got interesting_.

A no-nonsense looking Imperial woman who was donned in Imperial Heavy Armor then ordered the prisoners off the cart, commanding each prisoner to head to the grounds as their names were called by another Imperial soldier. The soldier in question was Nord with shoulder-length brown hair; he was holding a quill and what looked like a logbook. He called for the first prisoner.

That would have been the part when Seryna would just let her mind wander, considering how boring it was watching each soldier be called and be put together near the chopping block. But after that moment when a non-Stormcloak prisoner thought he could escape and _live, _Seryna paid attention again. Poor fetcher got himself killed trying to flee, ending up as a pincushion for almost half a dozen arrows. For the archers, though, that was some good aiming.

The next prisoner was then called, and she found herself paying close attention this time.

Because he—who had confused the soldier for being "not on the list"—happened to be Elven. A Dunmer like her, to be specific, with the telltale red eyes and gray skin that her race was known for. He probably looked handsome if he cleaned up, but that was neither here nor there… or relevant, for that matter. Still, Seryna couldn't help but notice that he was the only Elf in the group. It felt sort of ironic, really.

That, and she sort of felt sorry for the guy for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. No matter his innocence, the lady soldier who was probably the captain (Seryna did observe the way she was regarded by the other soldier) decided that the Dunmer would go to the block no matter what. And with a sharp glare that said there room for argument, the prisoner was forced to accept his fate.

At least the captain's peer was kinder. Not a lot of humans would offer to send a Dunmer's remains back to Morrowind.

With his fate decided, the prisoner turned to his next (and final) destination. And whether by coincidence or by accident, his eyes met Seryna's mid-turn.

The thief-slash-adventurer blinked in surprise; she didn't seen that coming. She almost took a step back, but she quickly recovered and flashed the prisoner her trademark, sunny smile. While it wasn't what she planned on doing at all, she might as well make the poor prisoner's last day a bit brighter anyway. Smiles did have that effect on people.

The other Dunmer seemed to have raised his eyebrows in response before dismissing her. He then headed towards the collection of soldiers already called.

So with the prisoner now joined with the others awaiting execution, Seryna stepped away from her spot, knowing that the next part was going to be... unpleasant. But then, she paused.

Now that she'd done what she thought of doing, now what? It wasn't as if she _actually _wanted to watch someone's head get chopped off from his body and see all that blood spurting from the neck and into the ground. There were more than a dozen who were going to end up with the same result, and while she could stomach the sight of two or three beheadings… well, more than that were flat-out nauseating. But appetizing, for a vampire, because of all the blood.

Plus, she still had a person to look for—

Wait, she just had a thought. What if _that_ person decided to go watch the executions and happened to be out of her sight but actually close by? The faux Thieves Guild fence might breathe easy for a moment, thinking that Seryna wasn't around. _If_ she was right and he was really in this town, of course. He probably thought watching the executions would be harmless, and that would mean he wasn't on his guard.

She decided that she'll stomach the executions. She was going to be casting subtle glances at the crowd more than watch the prisoners, anyway.

But before she could even take one step forward, a faint roar echoed across the sky. It sounded so strange that she felt herself shiver. She glanced uncertainly at the sky, expecting a surprise, but all she found were the white, puffy clouds and the afternoon sun.

Maybe she was just imagining things.

Maybe it was just fatigue.

Right, right, she didn't hear a thing. Probably just her stomach rumbling. Or something.

Shaking her head, Seryna stepped down the porch and joined the small group of onlookers. By the time she arrived, a priestess had started reciting the last rites for the prisoners, with the first soldier to be executed lain on the chopping block. She had to hold back from rolling her eyes when the soldier impatiently demanded that things be gotten over with. He also spouted some things about being smiled upon by his ancestors.

Typical Nord pride. But he got what he wanted in the end, and that was that.

Before she knew it, her attention had turned towards the Dunmer prisoner the moment he was called. For some reason, there was just… something about him that made him stand out, now that she put _some_ thought into it. And it wasn't because he was the odd one out. It was something else, something she couldn't put a finger on. How curious.

As he stepped forward, another roar erupted in the sky—the same kind of roar from earlier. Heads looked up—not including the once recently chopped off, of course.

Even though she failed to see anything out of the ordinary once more, every part of Seryna told her to get out of here, _now_. The roar had her gut telling her of bad things happening, that she didn't imagine the earlier one, and that if she didn't go, she was going to regret it. She certainly was feeling the regret part at the moment.

But she couldn't find herself backing away just yet.

Despite the nervous chatter that erupted amongst the townsfolk witnessing the executions, the Imperial captain disregarded the strange noise and merely called for the next prisoner. Seryna could have sworn there was a flicker of hope on the Dunmer prisoner's face before the captain spoke. But no, the captain then called for him and he had no choice but to accept his fate then and there.

As the Dunmer's head was forced into the block, Seryna looked away and glanced at the sky again.

She just couldn't help herself. Something felt so _wrong_, like a disaster waiting to happen. But she didn't know what to do because whatever made her feel this way hadn't even showed up physically and—

_B'vek_.

Something black in the sky—that was what she saw. And it had _wings_. It flew closer and closer until she could see its whole form, and when it turned out that it was a _dragon_ that landed on top of a tower with enough force to cause a shockwave…

She regretted having passed by Helgen at all.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes: Whew! That's finally done. I haven't written anything in a long while, or written anything this long for that matter, so I hope things have turned out all right. Yeah, here's to a novelization attempt on Skyrim, not in the eyes of the Dragonborn, but in someone who'd be considered the companion in a Skyrim playthrough. Feel free to review, point out any mistakes and such. Considering how long it's been since I actually played the game myself (due to real life interfering), I most certainly am prone to errors. I hope you guys enjoyed this!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

As Seryna found herself taking a breather amidst the ruins of Helgen Homestead, a hand on her chest while leaning on the relatively sturdy wall, she couldn't help but think that her Sundas was most definitely beyond all salvation now.

_On second thought_, she then reconsidered as she waited for her heart to stop trying to drumroll its way out of her chest. _As if today was a good day to begin with. No good days began with executions, even if Ulfric Stormcloak was supposed to be involved in_ _one_.

Although she supposed it would be a good day for that man. The dragon's appearance had resulted into enough chaos to give him an opportunity to escape his deathday. Where he had headed to now, Seryna didn't know, but she was sure he was already on his way out of here without any Imperial Legion interference. The Imperials would be currently busy trying to shoot down the dragon with arrows or magical projectiles, if they were already done evacuating as much of the townspeople as they could.

Lucky bastard.

The walls of the inn suddenly shuddered, interrupting her thoughts. Seryna quickly edged away from the wall, thinking it was going to collapse on her, but after a moment, the wall continued being a wall and the Dunmer sighed in relief. She didn't lean on it again though, and decided that she ought to get a move on, soon.

Helgen Homestead had already been missing a part of its roof and a section of its walls when she'd reached the place, wishing a moment's reprieve from the mess outside so she could stop and _think_. The interior had revealed several piles of broken wood being burnt to a crisp, but Seryna had still found a part of the place where she could take a couple seconds to get her breathing back to normal, assess the situation, and quickly devise a plan that would lead her out of here.

Unfortunately for her, being reminded that the inn could topple like a tower of cards anytime didn't help her much in terms of plotting. In fact, she felt more like she was being reprimanded by an unknown entity for choosing this place as the _safest_ to take a small, small break (and for the record, it absolutely wasn't). Therefore, she had no other choice but to simply deal with things as she saw fit.

It wasn't as if she'd never done this before, anyway. She wouldn't have made it out of Understone Keep alive if she was bad at improvising—

Seryna shook her head as she realized her mind almost went off-track again. She made sure her two daggers were still with her and peeked out of the gap in the wall. From what she saw from her spot, parts of the road were blocked with pieces of rock from destroyed walls and towers. She wasn't really surprised; she already saw them blocked earlier. Since there were still some small pathways—like the gaps between the houses—she could slip through, she thought she still had a decent chance of getting out of here without too much notice.

Nocturnal help her if she couldn't. She was a thief, damn it. Slippery was part of the job description.

In any case, the coast was relatively clear at the moment. Seryna had a window of opportunity to at least make progress in leaving the town, and she'd be damned if she decided not to take it. She nodded to herself, stepping back from where she'd been peeking from.

It turned out that that was the most regrettable thing she did today.

"Oy, watch it!"

Before she knew it, Seryna was on the ground with something heavy on her back. She felt her forehead collide with the floor, hard, and as a result her vision was clouded with white stars.

_On the plus side, Skyrim has plenty of ice. I'm going to need... a lot._

Said heavy thing quickly rolled off her and gave her what appeared the moment she stood up. Glares were honestly hard to recognize when they belonged to a Dunmer.

If it really was one, though, Seryna thought that it should be the other way around since she _was_ the one who suffered as a result. What possessed her to simply stand there and grin sheepishly in response, though, as if she was the one at fault... well, she didn't know.

"Sorry, but I did tell you to get out of the way," the Dunmer prisoner said. His tone was anything _but_ apologetic.

"And I did hear you warn me, so I suppose it's my fault entirely," Seryna's grin didn't fade away one bit, surprising the Dunmer for a split-second. Huh, must've been expecting an entirely different reaction. Well. "And clearly, my swollen head's paid for that blunder of mine. This is a terrible time for arguments of who-did-what, so let's just leave it at that and let me skip to the part where I ask where on Nirn had you come from. You obviously didn't appear out of thin air, friend."

It was no surprise that the Dunmer prisoner raised his eyebrows at being called _friend_ at their first meeting. Seryna supposed she did tend to act a bit Nordic at times; it came with living among the Nords, she thought, since this _was _Skyrim, after all. That would explain why she couldn't allow a single day to pass without drinking at least one mug of mead.

...Gods, this was hardly the right time to think about mead!

"I suppose the tower near the inn is hardly of note considering the circumstances. That's where I jumped from after the dragon made a hole in the wall." The Dunmer shrugged, then proceeded to move past her. "Anyway, if you're not moving on anytime soon, I am. Rude as this may sound, I'm not going to waste more time on you when there's something worse to pay attention to."

That was... surprisingly direct. And a bit cutting, to be honest.

Then again, any person had the right to behave foully when they were innocent of any crime and was going to be executed for being at the wrong place and time anyway. The Nords in Windhelm were much more rude, thank you very much.

Seryna merely shrugged and went on to follow the prisoner. "Good point. Since there's safety in numbers, I'll tag along with you. My name's Seryna, by the way, so we don't result to calling each other 'you' all the time. Seryna Daleth, and Ryn for short; I quite like the human-sounding nickname."

The Dunmer prisoner gave her one odd look, the kind that could almost say _If you sounded any more casual, a dragon encounter would be considered as just another Tirdas_.

Seryna returned the look with what she hoped translated to _Defense mechanism, don't ask._

"Rondyl," the mer then said after a moment of consideration. Consideration of what, Seryna didn't bother to think about. He moved out of the ruined inn. "Now with that aside, let's just go—damn. Too late."

He stopped.

Damn indeed.

Apparently, the moment the two of them stepped out, the dragon decided that it was time for it to appear and decide that no one was going to escape that easily. Seryna's hands hovered near the hilts of her daggers as she prepared to defend herself, stepping past Rondyl, but as the seconds passed it turned out that it wasn't her and Rondyl that the creature had noticed.

No, instead the dragon was planning on landing over the road nearby, several feet away from a group of three who were trying to get away from that particular area as fast as they could. They were doing a poor job of it, as the man—whom Seryna figured to be the father of the little boy looking worriedly over him—was fatally wounded and was practically crawling on the ground. The Legion soldier was at least two feet away from them, urging the boy to come to his side upon realizing that the dragon was going to kill all of them if they didn't get away _right now_.

"Hey, get back" Seryna heard her Dunmer companion urgently said behind her. When she turned to him, he was peeking by the wall of ruined Helgen Homestead, having decided that the place was going to have to be utilized as a hiding place one more time. "Come on."

She quickly ducked inside the structure. A small gap in the wall enabled the two of them to view what was occurring outside, and a moment later Seryna found herself half-regretting her decision of looking through the hole like Rondyl did.

Well, she wasn't expecting to see a body burnt alive right before her, after all. She knew what a charred one looked like, but that was it; she only saw the result, not the before-during-and-after. Her consolation in this, at least, was the fact that the Legion soldier and the boy managed to make it out of the dragon's way in time, right before the dragon breathed out fire as it landed and shook the ground.

As the dragon took to the air once more, Seryna decided to mentally count to ten before she did anything. Considering that the dragon might end up noticing more movement below and decide to attack whatever was underneath it instead of going away like it thought of doing, the Dunmer thief thought that it was better to be safe than sorry.

Also, concentrating on counting to ten happened to do wonders for her nerves.

But then she barely made it to number three when Rondyl decided that the coast was clear enough to leave their hiding place. She would have pulled the other mer back in fear of the dragon still being close by, but that would just result to—probably—another strange look from him, the sort that would silently ask the question what in Oblivion she thought she was doing.

So she didn't, deciding to keep a wary eye at what part of the sky she could see from her spot as she listened to the soldier outside acknowledge Rondyl's presence. So far, so good.

It turned out that she didn't have much to listen to, anyway, other than the fact that it was just a quick exchange of words. The moment she heard the soldier—whom she learned was called Hadvar after he delivered the boy to another relative hiding nearby—tell Rondyl to follow him if he wanted to _stay_ being alive, she popped out of the Homestead.

Of course, when she was in full view for the people before her, what she _meant _to say was, "I certainly hope don't mind another tagalong with your prisoner here. I'm useful, don't worry."

But then the words remained unspoken.

That was because, on the ruins past the group of people before her, something (or some_one_) immediately caught her eye. It was as if time stopped for the moment she watched her target duck inside one still-mostly-whole house as the dragon flew overhead. She managed to get a look at _him_ with decent clarity.

_Hold on, I _know _that person. Same clothes, hair color, body shape, probably the same height too… Oh. Gods._

And so at the end, what she said was this: "Hello, hello, don't mind me, please. I'm a friend, and Rondyl can vouch for that." She flashed the small crowd before her a big a grin before turning to the aforementioned Dunmer. "And sorry, friend. You go on ahead without me. I have some business to attend to, so I'll catch up with you later. As it turns out, I'm apparently good at tracking people down."

She didn't give him a chance to reply as she darted off towards her target's location. She was quite sure Rondyl's response would involve the words _hey, come_, and _back_, so she certainly wasn't missing much by leaving him just like that.

She promised to herself she'd make it up to him later.

Though, as Seryna quickly caught up to the Breton man cowering in the corner of the ruined house and faked a cough to catch his attention, _later_ might probably come sooner than she thought. This ought to be easy.

"Oh, Gods damn it, you again," the person who'd scammed her days ago said as he realized he was essentially trapped by the grinning Dunmer before him.

Seryna leaned casually against the doorframe, which had sadly lost its pair of doors during the first few moments of chaos earlier. _I hope this thing doesn't collapse on me. That would be so embarrassing_. "Miss me? What better time to host a reunion than during a dragon attack, eh?"

The faux guild fence gulped as he slowly edged away from her. There was something dangerous in the look of her eyes despite her sunny expression. It definitely didn't help that he thought she'd already died fighting the mercenaries he left to deal with her—no one would come out of a mess like that feeling very friendly. "Hey now, you do realize that this is hardly the right time for revenges, right? That dragon would kill you too if it found the both of us here!"

"Yes, well, this wouldn't be happening either if you _didn't try to get me killed_. Besides, the damned beast still has a lot of toys to play with outside. We've got a few moments." Seryna replied simply. She didn't budge from her spot one bit, knowing that there wasn't a gap in this house large enough for the man to fit in, should he want to make a desperate escape.

That would be a hilarious thought, though, if she acted like she was going to skin the fetcher inside out for duping her and he'd end up looking like he wanted to soil his trousers. She couldn't kill anyone who got involved in a guild job, so the most she could do was participate in a little bit of subterfuge.

Of course, if she made his death appear like an accident...

Alright, that was too Dark Brotherhood-ish for her tastes. Nevermind.

"Then, damn it, what do you want with me? Look, what happened then was nothing personal. They just paid me a lot of coin to do whatever they said—it's not my fault it involved trying to slowly reduce your guild into nothing." The Breton tried to explain without making his voice shake. He was eyeing the daggers on her waist and trying not to look _too_ scared.

"So, what, killing me in _such_ an unprofessional manner is your way of cleaning the trash? No, no, don't bother answering that." Seryna pulled out her dagger and tossed it in the air, letting it flip a few times before dexterously catching it by the handle. It was more theatrical than anything else, but it certainly seemed to give the Breton the desired effect of making him rethink his actions carefully. "You want to get out of here alive? Then I have questions for you, and I suggest you give a straight answer. Who are they? And why act just now?"

The man shook his head, and she raised her eyebrows. Seryna then pretended to look intently at her weapons, as if to contemplate how sharp her weapon's point was and how quick it would sink in the man's flesh. It made the Breton start talking at once. "I really don't know who they are, honest! They're not exactly trying to be out in public, and I've never been told _who_ I'm working for, exactly. I only got to correspond with them through letters. But whoever they are, they're interested in your guild."

The roar of the dragon was then heard outside, and she decided that she'd wasted enough time. The sounds of explosion outside also made for a convincing argument, should she decide that she needed a few more seconds. Ah well, she always kept her word, so she would have to let the man go free.

Even if he _was_ the main reason why she was stuck in this gods damned situation.

The thief removed herself from her spot, motioned to the outside with her head, and let the faux fence run past her. She had to fight the urge to chuckle when the man nearly tripped down the broken stairs. When she figured the man was farther away, though, she chuckled. She started yet another mental count before leaving the house herself.

As she navigated through the wreckage, she hoped that she would manage to reach Rondyl in time. The only logical place she thought he'd head to was the Helgen Keep, since he _was_ with a soldier when she left him. Soldiers would want to come to their general for their next command, and for sure, that said general would be in no other place but the Helgen keep. It was the most fortified structure in the whole town, after all.

It was only a matter of time on how fast she could get there.

Gods, she hoped she was correct.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yeah... this should've been up a long time ago. I had to keep redoing the chapter until I was satisfied enough to put it up. And with college stuff filling in what should have been writing time, no surprise that it took this long to get a second chapter uploaded. Buuuuut anyway, thank you for the reviews, guys! It's really encouraging. I'm not quite sure how good this one is, considering that I honestly haven't proofread this one much, but boy am I glad it's finally over with. Now on with the next... as soon as I have free time. :v**


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